


Security Risk

by Oriole T (inamac)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1982-01-01
Updated: 1982-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/Oriole%20T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cowley is concerned that Bodie's womanising may pose a security risk - he gives Doyle a special assignment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Security Risk

Ray Doyle looked at the closed door of the office with the sort of wary respect which he usually reserved for armed gunmen. Interviews with his boss weren't something which worried him, but this one was...odd. In view of Cowley's attitude to teamwork it was unusual for him to ask any of his agents to report for a briefing alone, and on this occasion the CI5 chief had specifically sought to exclude Bodie; sending him off on a solo surveillance job in North London which, to Doyle's suspicious mind, looked distinctly like an excuse to make this interview a very confidential one.  
It stank of intrigue. Ray Doyle, ex-detective, did not like it one little bit.

He raised his hand and knocked.

"Enter."

The man seated at the ancient leather topped desk did not look up when Doyle obeyed the summons. Cowley expected his orders to be obeyed and naturally assumed that, since the door had opened and footsteps had crossed the carpet, the man who he had summoned was present.

"Sit down, Doyle." Still he did not lift his eyes from the papers.

Doyle sat, recognizing, with a shock of inexplicable apprehension, the photograph clipped to the report sheet on the top of the open file.

Bodie.

What the hell had his partner done now? It wasn't like Cowley to go sorting through the personnel files without good reason. The chief of CI5 looked up just as Doyle's nerves were beginning to fray visibly. He laid aside his pen and steepled his fingers over the open file.

"Well, Doyle, I hope my summons did not disrupt your leisure activities?"

Doyle shifted uneasily in the chair. "No sir," he tried a grin, forced humour overlying nerves. "It's Bodie who always complains about being dragged away from his girlfriends."

"Yes." A flicker of unrecognizable emotion crossed the older man's face. He took a breath, and then obviously decided to take the bull by the horns. "Exactly, 4.5. That is what I wished to speak with you about." He removed his glasses, toying with them absently as he spoke. "When I teamed you, I did have some hope that your influence might put some curb on Bodie's womanizing. However, the major effect seems to have been merely to multiply the security risk."

"Security risk?" Doyle felt as if he had been poleaxed. What the heck was the Cow talking about? He frowned, too confused to pay attention. The words washed over him.

"Yes, Doyle. Security risk. I can hardly afford to have CI5 manpower tied up in investigating every one of Bodie's female admirers."

Well what the hell do you expect me to do about it - sir? Doyle did not voice the thought, but his chief knew him well enough to be able to pick it out of the air.

"I expect you, Doyle, to be aware of your partner's whereabouts at all times. I do not want a repeat of the Myer-Helmut debacle; or of last week's unfortunate escapade in Windsor."

"No, sir." Doyle's mind was whirling. What _did_ the old sod expect him to do about it? Handcuff himself permanently to his partner?

"Starting now, 4.5. You do know where Bodie is at this precise moment? The Duty Officer informs me that he signed off of surveillance an hour ago."

"I think I know where to find him, sir."

"Then you will make sure that you are both present at this afternoon's assessment session. I want your written report on that new equipment. And you'd better bring the test models with you. I daresay the armourer will want a demonstration."

"Yes, sir." Doyle rose to his feet, relieved that the interview was over. He moved towards the door, and had his hand on the knob when Cowley looked up again.

"And don't forget to have a word with Bodie."

"No, sir."

"That will be all, Doyle." He dismissed the baffled agent with a casual wave.

Once outside the door Doyle leaned against the wall and reviewed the interview. Why now, for heaven's sake? Certainly when he and Bodie had been teamed no one had expected them to live in each other's pockets. Last week's shoot-out at Windsor had shaken Cowley, but it had been no worse than the Myer-Helmut affair a couple of years ago, and the old man hadn't been worried then...

Or had he?

Worried? About Bodie?

And after that...well, there had certainly been a tightening up of the security rules. Bodie's girlfriends had undoubtedly been checked out - as had his own.

His mind shied away from the memory of Ann Holly. They'd gone too far that time; and it still hurt. It made a crazy sort of sense, but something still nagged at the back of his mind.

'Your influence'? What did the old man mean by that? What was he up to?

With a dismissive shake of his head Doyle glanced at his watch. One o'clock. Since Bodie's current Thursday girlfriend was a barmaid at 'The Chequers' he would probably be there cadging free booze. Doyle grinned. Maybe, for a change, he could get his partner to stand the drinks.

*****

Bodie looked up as the door of the Public Bar opened and an all too familiar figure shouldered his way through the packed crowd of lunch time drinkers. Doyle was obviously looking for someone, and the circle of friends he could expect to find in this place was strictly limited. To one.

Bodie drained his glass and raised it to catch the other man's eye.

"Ray! Over here."

Doyle wriggled free of the last of the press to join him.

"What brings you here, mate? Come looking for a decent draught ale?"

Doyle grimaced. He was no more of a CAMRA acolyte than Bodie.

"Only if you're paying."

Bodie, well aware that he'd walked into that quite deliberately, conceded the hit. Leaving his partner in charge of the table he wandered over to the bar.

Mary, the barmaid who Doyle had so inconveniently remembered, was pulling a pint before he reached her. She set it down in front of him with a thud.

"I suppose you'll be wanting another, for your shadow?" she inquired, with more than a trace of animosity.

"Yes, love." With a resignation born of experience Bodie recognized the signs. Mary had had enough. The second glass crashed onto the bar, and froth spilled over the side. She ignored it. Her eyes were fixed on Doyle, sitting on the other side of the room.

"I suppose this means our date's off this afternoon?"

Inwardly Bodie sighed. The end of another beautiful friendship was looming on the horizon. Well, it had been fun while it lasted.

"We might have to postpone it a bit, love," he admitted, hoping to save something from the imminent wreck. Mary, though, was determinedly steering a course straight for the rocks.

"Like you did last week? Bodie, just occasionally I'd like to see the first act of a play instead of arriving in time for the curtain call."

"Mary, I promise..."

"Don't," she broke in. "Bodie, you can't keep your promises. You told me that on our first date. Well, I can't say I wasn't warned, but frankly I don't want to take any more of it." She floundered for a moment. Bodie was used to this sort of reaction - it happened frequently enough, but for the girls it was a new and unpleasant experience. Mary was painfully aware of the fact that she had worked very hard to make this inordinately handsome man notice her. They'd had some good times together, but...

Bodie covered her confusion, taking her hand and lifting it gently to his lips. "Hey, don't make a big production out of it, love. 'Just good friends' from now on, eh?"

She nodded numbly, then raised her head and met his eyes for the first time. "Yes..." and then she grinned. "Yeah. But don't think you're going to get this lot put on the slate. C'mon, Bodie, pay up."

He dropped the cash into her hand and turned back to his partner, who was showing distinct signs of impatience. Doyle took the glass from him with bad grace.

"She your current bird?"

Bodie grimaced. "Ex. As of five minutes ago. You have this devastating effect on my love life, Raymond. Until you arrived everything was going perfectly."

He sat down, dropping the banter, and his tone was much more serious as he asked, "Trouble?"

It occurred to Doyle that if his partner had just ditched yet another girl-friend, and if he really was to blame, Cowley wouldn't be too pleased about the fact.

"Ray?"

The question finally penetrated his thoughts.

"Uhn? Trouble? Oh, no. Just that Cowley wants us to sit in on the assessment session this afternoon. Wants our report on that new shoulder holster."

Bodie's eyes narrowed. "He's going to recommend it to the IRA?"

"It's not that bad..."

"Oh c'mon, Ray. The damn thing slows your draw by nearly a tenth of a second, and that bloody plastic clip fastening should carry a Government Health Warning."

"Concealment's better..."

Bodie snorted with derision. "Yeah, if you're James Bond. I've never noticed you worrying about the set of your jacket."

"Yeah, well..."

They were still deep in argument when the landlord called last orders. Doyle glanced at his watch in surprise. "Hell. The meeting's at 4:30. I left the gear at my place."

"We'll pick it up on the way." Bodie swung his coat over his shoulder and made for the door, glancing towards the bar to give Mary a quick nod of farewell. She nodded acknowledgment and watched the two men through the window as they moved to Doyle's car. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty...

Doyle had not missed the by-play. As he settled into the driving seat of the Capri the morning's interview with his boss came back into his mind. Bodie's girlfriends. Well, he should at least make an attempt to obey orders. As he set the car in motion he sought for a conversational opening.

"Nice girl, that barmaid."

There was a non-committal grunt from the seat beside him.

"Been seeing her for long?"

"A couple of months. Why? You thinking of moving in?"

"Uhn...no! That really would upset the Cow..." Doyle bit off the words, aware that he had made a big mistake. His partner sat bolt upright in the seat, looked at him in astonished silence for a interminable twenty seconds, and then burst into delighted laughter. 

"Christ, Ray, you're not letting him pick your girlfriends for you?"

"No." Doyle decided that the best form of defence was attack. "But you're going to have to be damn careful he doesn't start choosing yours. He wasn't pleased about the Windsor affair."

It brought Bodie back to earth. He had faced Cowley's wrath once on that score, and the knowledge that his chief's anger was due mainly to the fact that Cowley had obviously been worried sick about the risks which he had taken, had not been much comfort.

Windsor. The reek of acid fumes and the stench of burned rubber, of blood and sweat and urine, and the long afternoon of fear. And the girl, her once-beautiful face contorted in an endless scream of hate. Because of him. Because of what he was and what he did.

He sought refuge in flippancy. "Yeah, well, next time I go sight seeing I'll stick to London Zoo. At least they keep their animals behind bars."

Doyle, used to Bodie's black sense of humour, ignored the comment. He brought the car to a smooth halt outside his flat and switched off the engine, turning to face his partner.

"I won't be five minutes. You want to wait here?"

"No." The denial was more that half due to the fact that Bodie was still haunted by the unwelcome memories which Doyle had woken. For the moment the other man's presence was a life line, and not one he was going to relinquish. He forced a grin, taking the sting from the word. "No,  
sunshine. Don't trust you to find the way without me, do I?"

"You are incorrigible, Bodie. Y'know that?"

"Well you shouldn't try to corrige me then, should you?"

"Maybe I shouldn't..." Doyle said, as he swung open the door of his flat and reached up to flick on the light. It was a half-worded thought; he was still remembering Cowley's words: _'Your influence might put some curb on Bodie's womanizing...'_ Maybe he should at least make some sort of effort to obey the Old Man. He could always say he'd tried.

"You got a replacement lined up for whatsername?"

"Mary?" Bodie watched as his partner sorted through drawers in an attempt to find the written report on the equipment they'd been testing. He did not offer to help. Like his boss he worked on a 'man for the job' principle. Since Doyle had lost the stuff, Doyle was the best person to find it.

"A replacement? Not yet. D'you want to come down to the club tonight and help me pick one?"

It was a tempting offer, but Doyle's sense of duty was nagging him. "Can't you ever give it a rest, Bodie?"

"Jealous now, are we?" The conversation was taking a familiar turn and Bodie was fully prepared to take the opportunity to bait his partner. He was stopped by Doyle's reaction. The other whirled, his face dark with fury.

"No! Jesus, Bodie, didn't Windsor teach you anything? Every damn woman you pick up is a potential security risk. Cowley knows it. I know it. Why the hell won't you recognize the fact?"

Bodie faced the outburst in astonishment. "Security risk? What the hell are you talking about?"

Doyle was into his stride though, and would not be stopped.

"What if he's right? What if you do end up feeding top secret information to some bird you've picked up off the street? Hell, Bodie, somebody has to check them out. D'you think I enjoy having to keep up with your address book?"

Bodie did not rise to the bait. He grinned. "The Cow's got a Mata Hari complex. I'll bet he was seduced by a beautiful Russian spy in his youth, and has been trying to live it down ever since, Won't happen to me, mate."

Doyle was not laughing. "You know that, and I know that, but try telling him!"

"Maybe I will." Bodie refused to recognize Doyle's seriousness, seeking a way to defuse his partner's dangerously volatile temper. "Hey, d'you think he'd be happier if I was sleeping with you?"

It worked. It worked far more successfully than Bodie had expected. Doyle stopped dead. When he spoke again it was with a brittle flippancy which was totally alien to his usual manner.

"Yeah. Well, if it'd keep him off my back, so would I."

"Watch it, sunshine, I might take you up on the offer, if I thought you'd dare." The retort was automatic, but it fell into a silence thick as treacle. The moment stretched between them, wire taut.

Doyle's mind was seething, a maelstrom of emotion and memory. He had never in his life backed away from a challenge. Even in those childhood games of 'Truth, Dare, or Promise' he had always chosen the 'dare', there had not really been a choice, not for tearaway Ray Doyle.

...He'll dare...anything...

"Ray?" The silence had gone on for far too long. Bodie sounded puzzled and concerned. To Doyle it seemed that the voice came from a million miles away. He jumped when his partner's hand landed on his shoulder, started guiltily and met Bodie's eyes. Strange, he'd never realised before that they were blue; had always assumed that anyone with Bodie's dark good looks would be brown eyed.

Good looks...

Why the hell should he have noticed? And why now?

You wouldn't dare...

The grip on his shoulder tightened, and attempted to shake him back to reality. There was concern in the blue eyes now, and Doyle met the gaze unflinching.

"Oh I dare, Bodie." His own hands locked around his partner's neck, pulling him closer, using his strength to overcome the bewildered instinctive resistance, taking the startled mouth under his with a violence which shocked him as much as it did Bodie. The thought was exultant.

I'll dare...anything...

"No!" Bodie's denial thundered through them, driving them apart with a violence which was not merely physical. They faced each other across the opened space, both slightly breathless with reaction, both tensed, neither sure whether he wanted to fight or run. Bodie wiped the back of his hand across his mouth in an attempt to rid himself of the taste of the other man.

"What the hell d'you think you're playing at, Ray?"

Confused by his own tangled emotions Doyle sought refuge in challenge. "You made one joke too many, didn't you, Bodie? How does it feel to be taken seriously for a change? Sleep with me? You wouldn't have the nerve."

"Try me, sunshine." Bodie was aware, even as he growled the words, that he had gone too far. It had been an instinctive challenge, and for the first time in his life he was in a situation which was totally out of his control. There was no way in which he could regain that control - unless he could bluff his way out. That might be possible. He straightened, closed the space between them, and pulled Doyle roughly into his arms, gathering a handful of curls to bring his partner's head back with unnecessary force. He had intended to return the kiss with a brutality that would scare Doyle into backing out, but the green eyes were challenging, confident, almost triumphant, and the mouth opened under his, inviting exploration without any trace of reluctance.

What the hell?...

Doyle's hands moved over his back, pulling their bodies impossibly closer, robbing him of the hard-won initiative. The kiss deepened, no longer a challenge as his own mouth accepted the probing tongue.

...Too late...

He flinched as his partner's fingers slid under his belt, the hand cupping the naked flesh of his buttocks, pulling their hips together in unmistakable intimacy; flinched at the contact and felt muscles tighten involuntarily, flame burning face and groin, embarrassment and fear a confusion of alien emotion.

At long last Doyle's lips released his to play along his cheek, following his jaw line with a motion that was almost a cat-like stroking, sensuous as the fingertip touch of velvet. The whisper against his ear was one of awe.

"I'd forgotten. It's been so long..."

"Ray!"

It came out as a half-gasp, reluctant denial. Doyle pulled away, disentangling their bodies. His face was flushed now with embarrassment.

What have I done!?

"Bodie, I...Oh shit!"

Bodie's hands tightened on his shoulders, the blue gaze holding his, the frown serious. "You know what you're doing, Ray?"

"Yeah. I..." he rubbed a hand across his face, as if newly woken from sleep, a lingering dream, and caught his breath. "Oh hell. Look, can you forget it, mate?" Jesus, he was trembling. "I think I need a cold shower."

"You're not the only one. And I don't think I can forget it. Ray, what the hell happened?"

Doyle scowled. "I lost control is what happened. I shouldn't have, but you were being so damn smug. I never thought..." another long breath. Doyle's nerves were in shreds and he could not meet his partner's eyes. The last part of the comment was a sighing whisper: "...you could turn me on like that...."

The cruel hands moved from his shoulders, cupped his face, forced recognition.

"Neither," said Bodie, "did I. It's not your first time, is it Ray?"

"Of course not. What the bloody hell d'you think I was doing on the Drugs Squad for three years? Cowley is right. It's damn easy to get people to talk in bed. I know."

"You must have been very good..."

"I got the information." Doyle stopped abruptly as the thoughtfulness of the tone registered. Then, at last, he met his partner's gaze. "Yeah," he said, slowly, "but it was a long time ago. You don't want to know about it."

"No?" there was challenge in the tone. Bodie loosened his grip, stroked his hands down Doyle's neck, running fingers lightly along his collar-bones, meeting at the open neck of his shirt to finger the button there. Doyle gripped his wrists before he could go any further.

"Are you crazy, Bodie? You don't know what you're asking."

"Crazy? Well, perhaps. And curious." His fingers caught in the chain around Doyle's throat, pulling it taut. "I always wanted to know you better, Ray. To understand you." He smiled thoughtfully, his eyes still on the chain tangled round his fingers. "Could I get you to talk in bed?"

The last of Doyle's resolution deserted him. He had tried, God knew he had tried to back out, tried to keep his distance, but it was too late. He closed his hands around Bodie's, feeling familiar anticipation burning through him, a fountain of desire. He touched his lips to their entwined fingers. "You can try..."

*****

There were long blond hairs on the pillow, and a faint, lingering scent of 'Je Reviens' which for some reason made Bodie feel...apprehensive.

The hands moving with uncanny confidence over his naked body could not quite make him relax, and his own reluctance to touch Doyle annoyed him. He could not forget the fact that he had never in his life dared to touch another man so intimately. He ran a hand down his partner's body and hesitated when the fingers dipped from rib-cage to waist and did not encounter the anticipated smooth rise of soft flesh over wide hips, but a hard muscled pelvis, slim and dangerously unfamiliar. Doyle's tongue moved expertly over his body, from throat to chest, teasing response from each nipple, but as he bent to return the touch his lips encountered the unexpected mat of fine curled hair, a strongly masculine scent, erotic, but...alien. Apprehension grew as his partner's skill drew from him responses which he found it impossible to return and he was acutely aware of Doyle's growing frustration. He was not really surprised when the other man released him, threw off the bed covers, and abruptly rose to his knees on the dishevelled sheets.

"God, you're tense, Bodie! Roll over."

Shock hit him.

What have I done!?

His throat was suddenly too dry, too tight with fear, to manage more than a beseeching croak. "Ray...please...No..."

Doyle recognised the note of panic and swore. "You didn't think...Hell, Bodie, d'you really believe I'm capable of rape?" He reached out a hand, touched Bodie's shoulder, feather-light. "Look, you're trying too hard. Just relax, huh? Forget about the sex."

The fingers tightened, kneading at the shoulder muscle. The touch was almost impersonal and Bodie managed to quell his fear. He shifted so that his partner could get a better grip, and finally did roll over, although he could not stop the involuntary tensing of every muscle as Doyle moved to straddle his prone body.

The other man ignored the flinch, He steadied his hands on his partner's shoulders and began to work on the tense muscles, putting his whole weight behind the firm kneading motion of thumbs and palms. Gradually Bodie relaxed into the rhythm, no longer over-conscious of the silky touch of Doyle's thighs against his flanks, the slide of genitals on his back as the other man leaned into the strokes of the massage. He was scarcely aware of the moment when the touch of lips replaced hands on his shoulders, when the hard, impersonal massage became an intimate caress and Doyle lowered himself back onto the bed, drew his partner into his arms, and gently touched his lips to the closed eyelids.

"Hey," he whispered softly, "you're not going to fall asleep on me, are you?"

"Mmmm?" It was a sigh of contentment. Bodie stretched and relaxed more comfortably into the embrace, trusting his partner completely now, panic purged away. Grinning, Doyle moved down, flicking his tongue along the other man's jaw-line to nuzzle against his ear as his teeth nipped at a fold of tender flesh. Bodie's eyes flew open and he swore.

"Bloody cannibal."

"Woke you up though, didn't it?" Doyle's face was still buried in his shoulder and the words sent breath scurrying across his neck, making his nerves prickle with rising desire. Doyle felt the response, reached down and took his partner's hand, guiding it firmly between his thighs, desperately trying not to react too violently to the touch. He bit off an exclamation, and Bodie hesitated.

"Ray..."

Doyle's body ground into his, sliding on new sweat. The voice in his ear was breathy with desperation. "Go on, Bodie. Oh God..." It was a gasp, the first stirring of insistent rhythm. "Whatever...turns...you...on..." And then all hesitancy was forgotten, swept away by surging desire.

*****

An hour later Doyle disentangled himself from his contented partner, propped himself up on one elbow, and glanced awkwardly at his watch.

"Fucking hell!"

The sudden scramble disturbed Bodie, but by the time he could make his own attempt to crawl back to reality Doyle was sitting on the edge of the bed with the phone in one hand and a finger in the dial.

"Ray? What's happening?"

He was ignored. The call was answered at the other end and Bodie's next question died on his lips as he recognised the abrupt voice, even across the distance which separated him from the receiver. Doyle tensed a little at the tone.

"Sir? Yes, sir. I know we're late. Sorry, sir. Yes, he's with me now; but ...you know the problem we discussed this morning, sir?"

Bodie listened to the conversation with a feeling that the growing sense of unreality which had pervaded the situation since he had walked into the flat had finally culminated in the ultimate impossibility. Ray? Baiting the Cow?? He listened in dazed disbelief as Doyle rapidly made excuses - something about 'needing more time to solve the problem', before he finally replaced the receiver on its rest. He turned, to find Bodie looking up at him with an expression of frank admiration.

"Well, well, well, Raymond Doyle," he said, in an outrageous Scots accent which threatened to break into laughter at any moment, "ye wouldn'ae hae ben lyin' tae t'owld man, would ye noo?"

"Bending the truth, maybe." Dole grinned. He felt unexpectedly light headed and strangely triumphant, thought he could think of no reason why. Bodie reached across and rested a hand on his upper thigh, moving it thoughtfully in a barely perceptible stroking motion. Their eyes met, locked.

"I always thought I liked you, Ray."

Doyle shrugged. "And now you know better?"

"Yeah." The hand stilled, moved to clasp his waist, pulling him back down onto the bed into his partner's arms. "I was wrong." Their lips were almost touching. Doyle, for all his experience, had never felt so vulnerable before. Horror welled up in him. He wanted desperately to block his partner's words, but it was too late. Far too late.

"I love you."

Doyle swallowed nervously, sending curls scudding across Bodie's throat, tickling.

"I told you so."

"What?"

"Some people will say anything in bed."

"Mmmm." Bodie buried his face in the curly hair, nuzzled into his partner's neck, savouring the touch. "Yeah. Sometimes even the truth..."

Doyle submitted to the caress, surprised and thrilled by the total trust it implied, and, as he rolled over, responding by instinct to his partner's need, he heard the whisper of a laugh, a murmured name.

"Mata Hari..."

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Written Jan 1982 for the Professionals paper circuit.


End file.
